Page 36 of My Totally Unfair Deal

I follow, lips chasing his for a half-second longer before I freeze.

We stare at each other, panting. We’re still close. Still touching.

“That…” I whisper. “That was?—”

“A mistake,” he finishes, voice low and uneven.

“Right.”

Silence.

“We should take a break,” I say.

“I agree. Two days.”

“Three.”

“Perfect.”

SEVENTEEN

HARRISON

Three days later

The mug Eliza used yesterday is still in the sink, and a lipstick ring stains the rim.

One of my Post-its—Enunciate. Don’t swallow vowels.—has been peeled off the fridge and slapped onto a carton of oat milk.

She hasn’t said more than five words to me since we left the bar, and the only thing I’ve said to her is, “Don’t forget to keep practicing with the cards.”

We’re passing each other like strangers in a hotel hallway—nodding in quiet acknowledgment, looking away before our eyes can fully meet.

And even though every stolen glance at her mouth makes me ache to finish what she started, we need to get back on track and focus on why she’s here.

I knock on her bedroom door, but there’s no answer. I head to the living room, and the scent of vanilla and lavender smacks me in the face long before I turn the corner.

What in the…

Yarn, glitter, and markers are strewn all over the floor. Canvas boards lean against my windows, and a rainbow array of sticky notes covers the walls.

Eliza wobbles across the floor in today’s heels, carefully placing a layer of cardboard on my coffee table.

I wait for her to notice me, but she’s focused on littering my space even more.

Clearing my throat, I fold my arms. “Eliza.”

“Huh?” She glances up. “Oh—sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“What is all this?”

“Vision boarding.”

“Vision what?”

“It’s like scrapbooking for your dreams. You know, the real-world version pre-Pinterest.”

“Can you say that in English?”

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